New Traditions
by nondescriptf
Summary: Chuck Bass might not "do" birthdays, but everyone knows that Blair Bass most certainly does. Chuck and Blair, and Henry, too.


"Two drifters, off to see the world…there's such a lot of world to see," Blair sings softly to herself as she smoothes the piece of purple wrapping paper on her desk.

She glances around her office as a precaution, even though she knows full well she is alone, before accessing the false bottom drawer on the right hand side. She pauses her song, long enough to pull out the small jeweler's box and smiles, before continuing with her favorite tune.

"We're after the same—rainbow's end," she croons happily, as she centers the rectangular package and reaches for a piece of tape, "Waitin' 'round the bend, my huckle—."

"Mommy, mommy, mommy!" Henry calls out loudly as he bursts through her office doors and stops her mid-movement.

Blair looks up to find a harried Dorota trailing after him as she reminds him, "Mr. Henry, you must always knock first!"

Henry freezes halfway across the room and bites his lip at his mistake.

"Sorry, Mommy," he says, before turning around and issuing the same apology to Dorota.

His adorable "oops" face melts her heart, but Blair forces herself to be a disciplinarian—Chuck is surprisingly better at saying no than she is.

"It's all right, Henry," Blair says gently, before continuing in a firm voice, "But you must remember to knock before you enter _any_ room, not just Mommy or Daddy's office, okay?"

"I'll 'member next time," Henry promises.

Blair waves Dorota off when Henry approaches her desk, and pulls him onto her lap as her office door shuts quietly.

"Now, young man, what was so important that you had Dorota bring you here without calling first?"

But Henry's attention has been lost and he stares curiously at the half-wrapped velvet box in the middle of her desk.

"Mommy, is that a present?" Henry lisps again, having yet to correctly master the 'r' sound. "For me?"

"No, sweetheart," Blair shakes her head before reminding him, "It's your Daddy's birthday on Saturday. This is for him."

"Can I see, mommy?" Henry's eyes twinkle with excitement. "Can I, can I?"

"May," Blair corrects automatically. "It's 'may I'."

Her son blinks his long eyelashes and in the politest voice he can muster asks, "Mommy, may I please see what you got Daddy?"

She wavers for a moment, loving how darling her boy's manners are. But this is a particularly special birthday present, and she doesn't want Chuck's surprise to be spoiled—even if its accidental.

"I'm sorry, Henry, but this is a special, secret gift from me to your Daddy."

"I can keep a secret!" He says determinedly.

"I'm sure you can, baby, but this one is Mommy's secret to keep." Henry's lower lip stick out, the famous Bass pout forming on his face. "Would you like to help me finish wrapping it?"

"O-kay," Henry agrees after a moment's hesitation. He reaches over for the tape dispenser, while Blair scoots her chair closer to her desk.

Before she can stop her son, he's pulled an entirely too long piece of tape and looks up at her for instructions on where to put it. She wonders absently if Henry would notice if she rewrapped the gift later, wanting the gift to be absolutely perfect. But her son, much like his father, always seems to notice the things that are oft ignored. And she knows that despite his fastidiousness, Chuck would adore his first sloppily Henry wrapped gift, especially because of the mess.

Blair cannot help but smile even wider, this is the first time Henry has helped her wrap a present, _any_ present—and it is made even more special that it is this particular gift and that it's for Chuck. She is giddy because it wouldn't occur to Chuck to wrap her Mother's Day gift with Henry, when Harry Winston did an exquisite job. This will be a new annual tradition she can share with her son, and in her mind's eye she is already plotting out the fun little details that will have the personalized Waldorf-Bass stamp.

Happily, the pair makes quick work of the task at hand, with Blair only pointing out where to place the tape, and helping Henry fold the matted paper. When she pulls out the ribbon and ties it around the package, Henry watches with anticipation, eagerly placing his left forefinger at the appointed spot so she can tie the bow. Carefully, she guides his hand, firmly cradled in hers, to use the edge of the scissors to make the ribbon curl.

"Can we add more curly ones?" He asks immediately. "Daddy needs lotsa extra!"

Blair nods her head, unsurprised by her son's penchant for embellishment. As she reaches for more ribbon, Henry's next words stop her heart.

"I don't have a present for Daddy," he says worriedly.

It's moment like these that reassure her that she and Chuck are doing more than a 'fair' job at raising their son. Henry is thoughtful and sweet, but still every inch of him is them—one hundred percent pure _Chuck and Blair_.

"Would you like to go to store so we can pick out some paper? You can make Daddy a card with your markers and crayons?" Blair asks, trying to temper her excitement. Henry isn't starting pre-school until the fall and so he has yet to learn that his drawings are something she and Chuck may want to proudly display in their offices, even though his creations already hang all over the playroom and on their kitchen refrigerator. She ignores the fact that she has a conference call in less than an hour, because meetings can be rescheduled, but creating this memory is priceless.

Henry's forehead wrinkles as a serious look of concentration appears on his face. "A card isn't a present."

Blair pauses for a moment before answering honestly, "No, sweetheart, it isn't. But sometimes, a card can be _better_ than a present."

Just like words, she thinks quietly. Sometimes words are the best present one can ever imagine. _I love you, too_. _Blair Cornelia Waldorf, will you marry me? Three words, eight letters. My wife. Her husband._

"But you got Daddy a present. I need one, too," he says logically.

She thinks now might be the time to clue her son in on her ritual. Now might be the time to show him the cabinet where she stores the gifts she buys for Chuck all year round.

Each year, she makes certain to buy him dozens of presents, ranging from the extravagant to very simple. It's her attempt to try and make up for every birthday that was left uncelebrated—ignored by _that man_ and virtually everyone else in his life. Chuck Bass might not "do" birthdays, but everyone knows that Blair Bass most certainly _does_. So while Chuck treats her with a singular lavish birthday gift—jewelry being the trend since her seventeenth birthday—she likes to splurge by numbers. She takes delight in the fact that he must tear the paper off of every single box, whether it's a custom bow-tie with matching socks or a framed picture of the three of them. She makes the effort to wrap each and every single gift herself, because each gift matters, because each gift is her way of trying to mend the parts of his heart that are still tattered.

Before Blair can lead her son to the room down the hall that houses the cabinet with Chuck's birthday gifts, Henry again stops her in her tracks.

"Mommy, we hafta go shopping!"

"Shopping?" She echoes.

"Shopping," he repeats. "Like me and Daddy went for your Mommy Day gift."

"I think that can be arranged," she agrees.

"Let's go!" Henry says, jumping out of her lap and bouncing to the door.

"_Now_?"

"Now!" He cheers.

She quickly looks to her computer screen to see what else is on her schedule for today, aside from the conference call with her suppliers and the meeting with her new public relations director.

"Mommy?" Henry asks with a touch of impatience.

"One minute," she says, as she pulls up the calendar that she shares with Chuck, and is reminded that he has an evening meeting with the Board of Directors. Conspiratorially, she asks, "What do you say we make a day of it? We'll go find Daddy a birthday gift and then go to The Modern for dinner and dessert?"

His eyes grow wide as saucers, "The trolley?"

"But only one thing," Blair warns.

Henry nods in agreement and hops from one foot to the other, trying to behave while Blair gathers her things. She slides the lovingly wrapped jewelry box back into a drawer and locks it shut. She fights the impulse to keep the irreplaceable cufflinks made from their original snake wedding bands with her. She takes Henry's hand and informs her assistant that she and her son have a mission to complete and her appointments need to be rescheduled. Without waiting for a response, the mother and son duo set off.

Later that evening, when she tucks her son into bed, after they have hidden the birthday card he made, Henry asks her for the dozenth time that night, "Are you _sure_ it'll be ready on time?"

"It's for your Daddy, of course it will be."

His mother's reassurance makes him relax. "Night, Mommy."

"Night, Henry," she says back, before leaning over and kissing him on the forehead.

When she reaches the door, she can tell from Henry's breathing, that he's already fast asleep, the unexpected excitement of today has worn him out. Tomorrow afternoon, she and Henry will pick up the custom scarf Henry selected for Chuck at Turnbull & Asser (not to mention the mini-scarf scaled down to Henry's size, the collar for Monkey and cloth headband for herself, added when Henry wasn't paying attention). The Bass male contingency will undoubtedly appreciate her foresight to accessorize.

Blair heads towards her closet to change out of her clothes, when the alarm system alerts her of Chuck's arrival. Her ears strain as she can just make out his steps padding towards Henry's room at the end of the hall.

She's sitting at her vanity, brushing her hair, when she hears their bedroom door close. A moment later, her husband's reflection appears in the mirror, his suit jacket removed, his tie loosened.

"Long day?" She asks as her eyes drink in every line of his face.

He bends down and kisses her bare shoulder, her eyes flutter shut as a tingle of anticipation runs up her spine.

"Sorry I missed bedtime," he apologizes.

She hears the note of regret he never manages to hide from her. Lightly, she says, "He was asleep before I left the room. We had an impromptu mother-son half day, topped off with dinner and dessert at The Modern."

Chuck takes the brush from her hand, and starts to run the bristles through her hair. "I wondered where you had disappeared to when I called your office before the board meeting."

"Henry was overzealous about something Oscar Thompson had told him during their play date and insisted on asking me himself," Blair informs him. "Oscar told him he had been on a boat with a pool, and Henry couldn't believe that if such a boat existed, that his Uncle Nate wouldn't have taken him on one yet."

"The Thompsons just got back from a cruise, I take it?" He smirks.

"Apparently," Blair rolls her eyes. "I explained the difference, but now Henry thinks Nate needs a boat with a swimming pool on it. He plans to ask Nate about it on Saturday."

Their eyes meet in the mirror for a moment, as though Chuck is trying to discern something, but instead he relaxes. "So what did you do during your mother-son bonding time?"

"I took him shopping," she admits, making sure she looks as doe-eyed as can be. "I think Henry might become my new favorite shopping partner."

"_Blair_," Chuck says warily. "You didn't go overboard did you?"

"Overboard for what?" She bats her eyes innocently.

This game they play every year still manages to amuse her. Quite dutifully, Chuck always makes sure that she hasn't gone to too much trouble for his birthday, because—_really, it's not a big deal_. And she always pretends that she has nothing except for dinner planned. But despite Chuck's outward appearance, Blair knows how much he loves her making a small event out of it. While Chuck and Blair don't like boring, they both adore the traditions they've created for themselves. Especially Chuck's having to unwrap all his presents, before he gets to unwrap his last and favorite gift—_her_.

"You know what," he replies, but his eyes are playful.

"Do you want to know what I think?" Blair asks, as she takes back the brush and sets it on her vanity, and swivels to face him.

"What?"

"I think you should kiss your wife hello, and maybe we should spend the rest of the evening _not_ talking," she says saucily, tugging on his tie to bring his face close to hers.

He rests his forehead against hers, and their nose touch as he inhales the scent of her. He murmurs in a low tone, "I think that's the best idea I've heard all day."

.

.

.

_**fin**_

* * *

A/N: Thanks to uncorazonquebrado for the beta, as always.

In honor of Charles Bartholomew Bass's Birthday.

Apologies if it was a bit rough, I'm a little rusty.


End file.
